Under The Shadow Of An Angel
by JennyInWonderland
Summary: This is the story of one of many forgotten dancers of the Paris Opera House; Anna gives her point of view of a dancer living in the shadow of a rising star, but also detailing her own relationship with the fabled "Phantom of the Opera" :) First Fanfic, just a small attempt. Hope you enjoy - Comments/Tips appreciated. (May go to "M" depending on progression later on.)
1. Chapter 1

_Under the Shadow of an Angel._

_Chapter One _

_Anna_

_During the time before the great fires; Before the time that Christine Daae was a household name, there was many a forgotten dancer. In these times of course many girls were competitive, if a girl was too weak or not as fierce as the others they would simply become invisible to the personalities that were the dancers of the Paris Opera house. You can suspect that many a potential star went under the eye of a wealthy investor or a observant tutor, and that often was the case. For girls in the Opera house's learnt to always try and out do each other, many fought tooth and claw for a wealthy benefactor to come their way and shower them with luxuries. There was a hidden relationship in many of the Opera houses that were left to disappear in history and that was the role of such wealthy men and that in fact even Ms Christine Daae herself was too subject to it, But she was lucky, as she fell quickly into the eyes of a man who could support her, and that man was the very same Viscount Raoul De Chagny, and of course in many a story there was another, a genius. The so called Phantom of the Opera._

_But this story begins even before the arrival of the dear Viscount, before The Phantom was a public villain. In fact, this story isn't really about Christine, she is simply a figure among it, as one can guess by association of time and place and even person that she would be._

_This story centers around one of such 'Forgotten' dancers and her unlikely relationship with the fabled Phantom of the Opera_.

In childhood a girl is brought to the Opera House, either was she is orphaned and sent there to do whatever work they may find, or because their family have connections and wish for them to be a dancer, or some form of stage help.

Usually, the latter is very unlikely; in my case, I was Orphaned, not only was I from a paupers family which nobody really remembers, I had the ill luck to lose my parents as an infant. I was found on the steps of the opera house in a modest basket, barely a blanket covering me and surely if I hadn't been found in those very minutes I probably would've died from cold..

Madame Giry was a very cold woman, the only kindness she showed was that rare glimpse of love to her daughter, Meg or that slight favoritism she holds to Christine, a "Second daughter" to her.

I was raised with the other girls, strictly told how to move and how to act and never to disobey, and this was all well but one can imagine the torment a child would go through in that environment, to be told exactly how to act and how to do a certain thing in a precisely certain way. It was hard. It was uniformed and everyone had to be perfect.

One thing they do not tell you in the books, or the stories is the debt the dancer owes to the opera house. Some cases, they are orphaned with families of considerable to some kind of wealth, it is paid in what they inherit, or some girls are sent there and therefore their boarding and feed and training, is all paid for from the first day. I was in debt. I was essentially owned by the Opera House, one of their dances and not a human, simply property, a prop.

I wasn't the most talented dancer either, nor was I the most pretty. Which you can add together as not going very well. The other girls were graceful swans and I was the duck hopping along in the background for most of my younger years, not comparing even slightly to the born talents that was Meg Giry or the others such as Elise D'Voluer.

But I tried hard, for it was all I could do. Practice, Practice. Hope and pray and then practice again.

As I reached my maturity, the age in which I would begin to dance in bigger productions alongside other mature dancers, this age is at 17. The younger girls play the more minor roles up until then, if they are selected good enough for it. Which I never was.

Years of being pushed aside, to be over so quickly at the age of 17, or so I thought.

That year would be the year our current manager retired, and the year things began to change; or more, everyone became aware of a certain presence.

"NO." Madame Giry slammed her cane to the solid flooring so hard I thought she would've cracked it in two, her scolding face was twisted into a disapproving scowl, her lips so tightened her face showed every wrinkle clearly. Her age was perhaps even exaggerated by at least another 10 years as she scowled profusely towards the grouping. "Lift!" She gestured a lift and made us perform the same move at least three more times.

It was exhausting but she dismissed us when she was finally satisfied, leaving the girls to either go out to sneak some extra snacking (Which Madame Giry disapproved of) or to gossip.

I usually went to the small library in the living section of the Opera House and read for a while before I was called to do some mundane task for the diva herself, Carlotta.

I was on my way when I noticed the enviously slender figure of Christine gracefully racing down a hall, her little head scanning her surroundings rather quickly as she bopped towards the main stage. My instincts told me not to follow her, perhaps I shouldn't have, but my curiosity had overcame me and I found my feet walking fast behind her, following her pace to see what she was doing. The main stage was usually prohibited, things were to be done, rehearsals, staging, it was risky to go on the stage. Someone could see and you could be reported.

But there she went, Past hall and into the back of the stage. I followed quietly as I could, allowing her to reach the thick curtains which acted as a barricade and on to the main stage itself.

I felt almost worried as I walked towards the curtain. My hands traced the thick material, my light movements probably not disrupting the heavy material. The silence was daunting at first until I heard it, a soft murmur of a song. Her voice was frail at first, light and wispy. You could say she wasn't talented, perhaps average at best and yet she tried. Through a small sliver in the thick curtains I saw her standing, her small frame tiny among the stage, her figure somewhat shrinking in comparison to the vast rows of red velvet chairs, her voice trembling with what I could describe as fear, perhaps nervous._  
_

Her voice was weak, tiny even in comparison to the vast stage of the Opera house and yet her voice seemed to belong. I was captivated at how frail she seemed by the weakness in her voice, so soft in what it portrayed. I wouldn't have known, but I wasn't the only one captivated by her. Of course, she was beautiful.

Her skin resembled a fine pale silk, although I must admit my skin was paler, although that wasn't a good thing, It meant I often looked sickly in comparison to the other girls, and many times Madame Giry said it was because I was left out in the cold far too long when I was a baby.

Her hair was a deep, lustful brown which curled naturally in almost perfect ringlets, her eyes a sharp blue that pierced a mans soul, even one as cold as the Phantom was entranced.

Her lips were a striking red for a natural color so deep you would think some type of rouge was used; but it was completely natural and it contrasted perfectly against her pale skin. She sung so softly, and even after she finished she remained on the stage, watching out as if imagining a crowd was watching, unknown to her there was, me, and the dark eyes of the Phantom himself.

This was the moment I first became aware of his presence, as once Christine left, I waited for a few moments before I dared make my entrance on the stage. My eyes widened at how the view changed from at that point. My mouth opened slightly in awe. How wonderful it must be to be the leading lady.

As I walked forward into the burning light of the stage, I felt almost watched.

The feeling of being watched lingered, like a pair of eyes was pinning to me, watching me. Examining me from the inside out. I didn't know then, but this was also the first time he became aware of me.

"So big." I couldn't help but whisper, as if saying anything louder would disrupt the majesty of it all. I found myself going down towards the conductors area, the sheet music was already laid out, the notes showing a beautiful melody which played almost instantly in my head as I read the notes. "Beautiful." I couldn't help humming the tune. As I stood on the stage, I couldn't help but imagine the dancers performing to the song, its sad notes driving them in slow movements. I took the chances to dance, although I wasn't as skilled as Meg.

Over my years I found a comfortable place in being more than adequate, and yet with the soft tones of the song I hummed I was entranced. Twirling gently around the stage, breaking out from humming to long complimenting notes of the tune. "Da...Da da daaaa!" I almost gasped as my voice reached such a high note of the melody, but I continued to twirl, even smiling at my sillyness as I gracefully swept along the stage, humming and singing along to the written melody. I must've became so lost in it as I heard the song, but not with my voice, but as if by magic the song came alive in my head. Gracefully leading me to the center of the stage and encouraging my movements. It was truly beautiful, and yet so sad, as the song continued I realized it wasn't the same song, in fact it was completely different.

I felt as if I was in a dream, as I twirled the song grew more urgent, willing me to go faster in my movements until it reached its climax and drew to a deathly silence. I stood, alone.

I couldn't talk at first, I hadn't an idea what came over me, and yet in my chest I felt a pang. "Is someone there? Hello?!" I knew it couldn't have been a dream, it was far too real. I still stood in the very same place and yet it was so silent.

It was as if nothing had happened.

"Hello?" I stepped forward and found the familiar tingle of being watched again. My eyes searched to find the source of such a beautiful melody and yet I found nothing. "It was so beautiful." I couldn't help but place my hand over my chest and sigh. For it was, such heartbreaking notes, softly played and expressing what I could only describe as utter sadness and yet longing.

I remained on the stage for a few more moments, silently waiting, hoping, but nothing came, still the silence prevailed and I was alone. Or, almost. I would've stayed, searched some more for the source of it if the loud shrieking of Carlotta herself hadn't tore me away from whatever dream like serenity that had become of me. Luckily, It was me she was after and as her eyes found mine she smiled. Yes, the dragon herself smiled at me with her overly rouged lips twisting rather disgustedly. "Here is the little madame herself."

Her overly pronounced Italian accent stretched the words to the point you'd think she'd run out of breath on every one, her eyes were so squinted with what I could only describe as an over-dramatic show of annoyance or rage, that you'd think she had gone half blind. "Where have you been, I have called for the past Ten minutes!" Her voice was filled with shrills, you wouldn't think a woman with such a powerful singing voice would have the speaking voice of a cat on helium, and yet there she stood before me.

"I'm sorry, I uh-...I..." I found myself stuttering to the point where I couldn't pronounce even one word of a pitiful excuse. She just rolled her eyes and snapped her fingers as a signal for me to follow.

I followed behind her, her heavy skirts trailed so I had to be mindful to keep my distance, one girl stepped on a small area of her fine red dress and Carlotta practically brought the place down with an hysterical fit. It cost the manager two more dresses, both grander than the one she complained about, to appease her. Carlotta was the star of this Opera House, many people came miles to hear her legendary voice and the Opera house didn't dare upset her. She was the main breadwinner and she knew it.

And so, the rest of the dancers - The managers, suffered because of it.

"I want you to clean my suite, It is a disgrace, how could you have let it get into such a mess?" Carlotta was busy preening herself in a passing reflection as she trotted to her quarters. It was a lavish room, perhaps four times the size of the dressing rooms for the dancers, dressed in the finest velvet and silks available, all to appease her.

As we walked through the entrance, which was two solid mahogany doors, ornately decorated with flowers and vines, I saw greeted with the familiar yapping of the dog. Her precious baby.

She cradled the creature to her bosom and cooed to it as if it were human. I was left to clean the dog's mess...And I wasn't talking about the animal either.

Carlotta was a dirty woman, not in a sense of bathing or appearance, but in her life her room was always a mess, she didn't care to clean it herself, she thought if beneath her. I was left with the job.

Luckily she didn't disturb me whilst I cleaned, it was silly; a dancer in training to be used as a maid, but everyone overlooked it. I was simply property to be used around the Opera House, I might as well be of some use to somebody whilst I was there. Madame Giry believed I wouldn't be one of the finer dancers, I never attempted singing like the other girls; I didn't know where I would be.

So there I was, cleaning Carlotta's quarters.

Luckily; It didn't take me too long to sort everything out. It never did, I knew how to move quickly has Madame Giry would probably be calling for us all to get back to training sooner or later.. I was right.

As when I ran back to the training room Madame Giry's lips were once again drawn back into a rather unpleasant grimace. "You're Late." She put a certain stress on the pronunciation of "Late", I was the only girl who had disgraced herself by being late this time.

No protection.

"I...Carlotta requested my assistance." I tried to buy some kind of excuse but she didn't accept it. "You are a dancer, not a maid. Remember your place." She slammed her cane against the wood flooring and I found my position with the other girls; Meg and Elise rolling their eyes at me as if I had done something an idiot would do. Meg forgets the time she was forced to give up her own necklace as Carlotta expressed her liking to it. Or Elise's humiliating situation in front of a wealthy patron, Carlotta felt upstaged and quickly spread a malicious rumor which is still sticking to her to this day.

But I was simply Anna. I had no superiority among these girls and so I was free to be ridiculed by all. Even Christine cast me a look which suggested something of pity, but that would be too kind. Something closer would be that of distaste.

Practice went quickly as it always did, I found myself standing by myself whilst Meg tried to squeeze some affection from her mother and Christine managed to get endless compliments beside her.

I continued to practice through their conversations, although Meg scowling disrupted me at one point. Just in time to see Madame Giry send her a look I would hate to be the recipient of.

Some time passed before I decided to retreat into the quiet of the Library, nobody used it as far as I was aware. In fact, I was often the only person to sit inside there. Some of the books had been untouched for so long that dust had settled.

I found my comfort among the shelves in that room; It was quiet and peaceful and I was lost in the tales which awaited me. I chose "The Hunchback of Notre Dame" by Victor Hugo. I became almost entranced by the story but also saddened.

I sat for much of my spare time as little as it was, in the library on my own, it took quite a long time to read the pages, given my spare time was limited to barely a few minutes of a day. It took me at least two months to be able to finish it.

I sometimes found myself feeling as if I wasn't alone, on occasion feeling that familiar prickling feeling; as if somebody was watching me. It was foolish, as I was completely alone in the room as I always was.

One particular day, I was practicing in the hall when I made a silly error on one of my steps. Madame Giry was in a bad mood and unforgiving on this occasion, going as far as to compare my grace as equal to that of a "Heavy footed drunkard." Although you would think she was done, she added the further humiliation of completely removing me from the practicing altogether, in fact, she ordered me out of the room entirely until it was over.

Once the other girls began to leave, a few cast me sad looks - understanding as they too had been the victim of Madame Giry's anger. But Elise, she smiled like a sly fox and taunted me with her nonchalant eyes. "Perhaps a pig would be more suitable." Elise smiled and took the extra care in throwing in a perfect example of the move I messed up whilst taunting me, laughing as my eyes rimmed with uncontrollable tears.

Meg, I noticed, stood back and watched. Even laughing as she saw my reaction. "You've made the little pig cry." She spoke in mock sympathy, giving a shake of her beautiful blonde curls, she was beautiful. Christine appeared, her brown hair tied back with a ribbon, her eyes were wide at the sight of me. "Look, Christine, wouldn't you agree that the girl resembles a little pig." Elise took a certain enjoyment in my torment, But Christine seemed in a daze as she watched me.

Her eyes, usually so direct, were lost as she scanned the hall, looking for something. For someone. She lingered for a while, as if making sure what ever she was looking for wasn't there. Even Elise noticed and spoke once again in a more urgent tone; "Christine?"

"What..Oh." She found me at least, her eyes squinting as she watched me. "I do not know." She spoke in a quiet voice until Elise frowned. She watched Meg and Elise for a moment, even glancing behind her before she spoke. "I suppose she does." She sounded almost hesitant before replying, following after Meg quietly after. She looked even paler if that was possible.

On my own in the silence I found myself choking back a sob. It was rare when I got upset in such a state, but when it happened I found myself completely unable to hide it.

I ran, as quickly as I could to the dim lighted library and fell back against the shelves where I usually sat. My chest shook with tears, sobbing uncontrollably. I was alone, no real friends among the dancers and the victim of a taunting Elise and Meg - Even Christine usually joined in for the fun of it all, she was so kind to everyone else and yet with me something was different.

I covered my face with my hands, trying to stop the tears from coming and yet they didn't stop, almost mercilessly they clouded my vision and choked my breathing.

I remained that way for a while until the page of a familiar book was in the corner of my eye.

As I looked, I noticed the book I had been reading for the past few weeks; The Hunchback of Notre dame, lay beside me - Opened exactly on the page I had left it.

I swore I had put it back on the shelf and yet there it was before me.

It was when I became aware of that familiar prickling feeling on the back of my neck.

Fighting my sniffling, I tried to speak; "Is someone there? Monsieur?" My voice was weak from the sobbing, shaking slightly with the emotion left behind.

"You're not alone, Anna." Whispered a voice, so close I could practically feel the breath on my throat. I gasped and looked either side. Nobody was there.

"Where are you?" I began to stand, and yet the voice remained, but it was moving. Almost as if it was in front of me. "I'm always there." The voice was distinctly male, intoxicating and deep. I found myself simply blushing at the sound of his voice, so dark and throaty It clouded my mind and made my knee's feel weak. All of this reaction for a simple voice, it sounded exotic, with the hint of an accent. I was entranced.

"Why can't I see you, Monsieur?." I placed my hand against the bookcase, I knew he was close, I felt his presence in every fiber of my being and yet I couldn't see him. I could feel him and yet not touch him. It was disorienting. "Some things are best not seen." His voice purred, so close I swore he was standing beside me. "Are you here to torment me like the others?." I traced the wooden frame of the bookcase, searching for a release, something behind it.

I found nothing.

I imagined this was some grand scheme by Elise, I could already envision them laughing at me already.

"The others?" The voice purred again and I felt a quiver down my spine. "The dancers, Elise, Meg and Christine. This is a part of their joke isn't it, to make me seem mad - They always say I'm crazy, always say I don't belong." I began sinking to the floor again, my hand remaining on the frame of the bookcase. It was as if the voice went down with me. It remained so close to me and yet so very distant."Maybe I am mad, maybe this is it."

"You're not mad." He purred against me and I shivered again. "Are you cold?" he inquired lightly, I couldn't believe he noticed me shivering. His voice was almost like that you would speak to a child. Nurturing.

"No, it isn't that." and regardless of my reply I felt instantly warmer. I didn't know how he done it, But the fireplace on the other side of the room sprung to life with a flame. I gasped as the flame burned beautifully and filled the room with the warm tones of firelight.

"You need a friend." He asked, not as a question but simply a fact. He sounded almost sympathetic beside me, but not. "You are alone." He murmured softly and I once again believed he was right beside me.

I couldn't help but close my eyes, absorb his beautiful voice. "This is truly a dream."

"Maybe it is not." that familiar voice cooed at me and I shivered again. "Do I scare you?"

"No." I sighed and found myself almost nuzzling myself into the bookcase, I imagined it was the source of the voice, perhaps I was right. My eyes still teared, I couldn't fight back all of the emotions. They ran freely in here.

"You still weep." He acknowledged softly and I found myself sniffling. "I'm sorry, I'm just so tired, upset, I don't know if I can control this any longer, Madame Giry, it is as if she hates me. Everything I do is never good enough, I try so hard and yet I

The voice began to coo softly, bidding me to relax. The fire too began to die down, almost on demand the light softened and the room went to a comfortable dim darkness.

_"Let your worries sink away, let your mind drift into darkness and calm.."_ His voice began to softly sing and all I remember was doing as he told me, drifting into the darkness.

When I awoke, I was with the other girls in the sleeping quarters of the dancers. I stared towards the ceiling with a gasp, it was morning. I had no idea how I had got there. As I moved I felt something fall onto my leg.

A single Red rose. It was tied delicately in a bow of black ribbon, it was beautiful. The rose was perfect; if you could imagine a perfect rose. This would be it.

Some of the other girls were already awake, but only really began to notice me as I sat with the rose.

"Who gave you that." Elise came over, staring at the flower with scrutiny, she was trying to find fault. But it was beautiful in its simplicity.

"I don't know." I mumbled a little and Meg shortly joined. "Already keeping the company of men Anna?" It was a bitter remark but behind her facade she was rather envious. It was rare for a girl of our standing to have time to see men. Never mind get flowers off them. "I wouldn't think you'd be worthy of such a beautiful rose."

Christine was tying her hair with a red ribbon when she glanced over, her eyes finding the red rose and her lips parting as she gasped. "Where did you get that?" Her voice was almost accusing, her eyes squinting at me as she stared from me to the rose in my hand. "I woke up with it beside me."

Christine stood up, her skin once again a shade paler. She began staring suspiciously at the walls. "Why did you get it?" She came over once most of the other girls left for practice. She took her place beside me and I felt almost captured as her eyes sunk into my own. "What do you know of him?"

"Of who?" I felt uncomfortable as she took my hands in her own and began to move closer. "The Angel."

"The Angel?" I stared at her for a moment until she scowled. "The beautiful voice, My angel. He comes to me every night."

I instantly knew who she meant with those words; The voice.

"I don't know, it wasn't an angel...I don't know anything about him, I've only heard him once." I bit down on my lip, I felt silly, admitting my madness.

She stared at me for a long time, her eyes squinting until she dropped my hands. She was annoyed. _She was __jealous._

"I see...Perhaps." She stared down at the rose again, even placing the ribbon between her fingers and touching the fine material. She paused for a moment, staring at the ribbon "Do you feel as if he is always watching?" She mumbled as if he could hear her now.

"No." I watched as she blushed. "Maybe it is different for you, he seems to be always there for me." She watched my reaction, I could hardly hide the pang I felt. "Perhaps it is a different person after all; he only ever speaks to me, and he is my angel." She stood with a slight smile, her eyes remained cold though.

"I think so." I smiled and Christine turned her back and left. Leaving me to get ready for practice and arrive five minutes late.

Madame Giry's eyes found mine, I awaited for a punishment, a cold remark. But there was none.

Her eyes were cold, her lips tightly sealed, she simply gestured to a place for me to go and told me to "Try to be on time" in the future.

The practicing went better than yesterday, no cold remarks or insults. I could totally focus on my dancing. Dancing wasn't my passion, although I didn't know what was. I enjoyed reading but I didn't think of it as my passion either. I enjoyed music.

Music, it was truly beautiful, something about it made me lose myself, perhaps it was as I was raised here, my childhood so closely linked with music that it simply became a part of who I was?

After practice, as the girls left I noticed something odd; Christine wasn't there. Meg paused to look for her, but even she looked rather confused.

I noticed this for a few more weeks; She was attending, but only the occasional lesson. Madame Giry didn't even notice her absences.

Over the next month I didn't hear from the mysterious voice again. I wondered if it was connected, Christine's frequent truancy and no more presence or hint of the mysterious voice. No more did I feel that strange tingle on the back of my neck either.

I would have thought it was all a dream if Christine didn't occasionally glance in my direction; her face filled with an anxiety. She looked at me in question, almost asking me if I had heard from him at all, pleading to see if it was the case. I didn't know how to reply and so I often just turned away - She would then continue on with Meg or Elise and I would go back to my usual practicing, or helping Carlotta.

During one evening I walked around the opera house, it was almost silent, until I heard the hushed mumbling of Christine from the quarters which we all stayed. As I approached I heard her singing.

She had improved vastly, in fact, you would believe her voice to be that of another girl. She sounded a bit wobbly still, but she was better. At first she remained quiet, I believed she had simply finished singing until I heard the rich familiar voice of the mysterious man. He was giving her instruction, and as she followed I heard most of the wobbling disappear from her voice. He was teaching her how to sing. Her Angel.

I began to think it would be best that I leave until I heard my name. "Do you speak to Anna, Angel of Music?" She was asking about me.

I froze, remaining there until his rich voice replied in a gentle whisper. I felt a shiver again. "She needs an Angel also." He spoke so softly, I even heard Christine sigh at how lovely his voice was. "I thought it was just me." She sounded disappointed but he replied regardless. "There are many lonely souls, Christine." The way he said her name, I can't say I wasn't jealous his voice was like a soft velvet to the ears, but the way he pronounced Christine was with such a passionate tone I could blush. His voice, so throaty and as he spoke to her it was in a different way to how he spoke to me on that evening. I was envious.

"I understand, Angel." Christine muttered and then It grew silent, their conversation ending. I took the chance to hide as she approached, the sound of her walking towards me a warning. I left it a few minutes before I dared enter the room myself.

Silence.

I touched the walls near my bed, they felt solid. I was once again completely unsure how he managed to do what he did. Everything was as it should be, and yet he appeared everywhere.

More time passed before I heard the voice again; I was sitting in the Library again in midday when he came to me again, softly murmuring my name.

"Anna.." He said, his voice causing me to shiver. He must've seen as the fire once again roared from slumber to a vibrant life.

"I thought you were simply a dream." I mumbled and I heard what sounded like a laugh. His laugh was divine.

"I am not a dream, Anna." He sounded almost amused at my remark. "What is your name, Monsieur?" I placed my hand against the bookcase once again, smiling to myself as he spoke. His voice was enchanting.

"I do not have a name." He sighed, his voice once again sounding as if it were so very close, as if he sat beside me. "Surely you have a name, everyone has a name."

He paused before replying, almost as if he doubted telling me. "Erik."

"Erik." as I spoke I couldn't help but smile more. His ever seeing eyes noticed; "You smile as you say the name?"

"It is nice to know more about this voice, the man behind it." I began to press against the bookcase, no pressure was released. There really wasn't anything behind it, or so I thought.

"Perhaps there isn't a man." His voice began to move around the room, dancing around me. Taunting, almost.

"I think there is." I began to stand and the voice seemed to follow me.

"And if there was?" His voice made me shiver again, it was so rich and deep I found myself easily swooning over it. My knee's in fact felt weaker just by the sound. I wondered if Christine felt that way.

"I would quite like to meet him." I looked around the room once again, my eyes trailing each detail for some sign. There was none.

"Things are not always as they seem." His voice caressed my ears deliberately, his voice masterfully taking advantage and causing me to feel dizzy. It was as if he knew my weakness to his voice, perhaps he did.

"Will I ever be able to see you Monsieur?" I felt surrounded as his voice seemed to radiate from all areas of the room. "Not whilst you are blind."

"I don't understand." His words, his voice. It was overwhelming, but he was cryptic. Nothing revealed and yet everything. I didn't know how to respond, how to react. What to understand and how to communicate with him.

"Erik?" A silence remained as I asked. He was gone. The prickling feeling had died down and the fire too flickered with not so much enthusiasm. He had left.

I began noticing little things, Madame Giry let me off with being late, and If I made an error she would show me how to correct it rather than bite harshly at me. Carlotta began calling on me less, as each time she did something unfortunate would happen. She now associated me with some kind of bad luck.

Unfortunate things had continued to happen, even after she found a new little 'maid', Unfortunate things simply increased.

These things were brought to the surface with the sudden retirement of our manager, and the arrival of our new managers;

_Monsieur Firmin and Monsieur Andre._


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2_

_Creature of Darkness_

The rumors that our current Manager would be leaving were very thin, everyone believe it to be a part of the idle gossip. Until, of course, the two replacements waltzed in beside him, examining the opera house with a smile on their faces. They were self made in scrap metal, the idea of them running an opera house had caused many of the more hard focused artists on a fit.

After one such display of anger by Ubaldo Piangi that everyone became aware of the truth in the rumors. I had been speaking to Erik for quite a while now, although our conversations were fleeting to say the least; I enjoyed every one of them. His focus was Christine Daae, I cannot tell you I wasn't jealous of the girl for she received his mysterious man's affection without seeking it, or at least, that's how it seemed. She seemed completely unaware of the strings which she held, that so happened to be tied around the mans heart. He never directly told me of Christine, but I knew by her behavior that something must be happening. After speaking with her, he'd be changed. If he hadn't had contact with her in the day we spoke; He'd be particularly crabby.

"Do you think that they will last long here, Monsieur?" I leaned against the bookcase, waiting for the beautiful voice of the stranger Erik to reply. Christine called him her Angel, as if he was not mortal, but I longed to see the man behind the bookcase, the man who owned such a voice and such passion. "No. Their place is in an office somewhere, not in a place of the arts - Certainly not in my Opera House." His voice was cold like ice as he spoke, I dare say the idea of these two imposters in his Opera House infuriated him. He considered the building his own, in fact it perhaps was for he knew hidden routes, secret places. He heard everything and saw everything. He was an everlasting presence.

"I believe you may be right Monsieur, but still...I wonder how Carlotta with react, my I can just see her now, leaving the stage and vowing never to return." I couldn't stop myself from jumping up and clasping my hand over my heart as Carlotta did. "I REFUSE! I will NOT be coming back EVV-ER, GET MY BABIES, WE ARE LEEAA-VING! I am serious this time, This is 'ze last straw!" I dramatically lifted my skirt as she would, even puffing out my chest as she did herself to bring attention to it, My voice straining but managing to get a half convincing Italian accent, not very hard when the girl you intimidate doesn't sound very good herself.

I heard the deep laugh of Erik, once again it surrounded me and I had to remind myself to not swoon. You wouldn't think a man could control a woman just by his voice, but if you heard Erik, you would agree with me. His laugh was something I enjoyed so much, hearing him laugh made me smile, in fact it made me so happy. I sat back beside the bookcase as he began to speak; "You are a far better actress than she, perhaps you would consider taking her place." He sounded rather strange as he spoke, almost as if he planned on Carlotta leaving. Although; from what he told me, I can see why. She was a cruel woman which was well acknowledged, but her vanity was sickening.

"I do not have the voice Monsieur, I dare say I would look a fool." I smiled and played with the fabric of my dress. I wondered if he would teach me also, for although we had been speaking for so long he never mentioned anything about teaching me to sing like Christine. Over their time Christine had improved vastly, In fact you could say she had a new voice entirely. He had a gift, but he was so enchanted by her I doubted that he would do the same for me, I believed that we were friends; Erik and I. We spoke to each-other almost every day but not with the same type of fire as Christine and him. He longed for her and she was so innocent in nature she didn't understand it. For all I have read about lust and love, I believe Erik felt that way for her, whilst I was just a simple friend. I felt a slight pang at the thought but it was the truth, it was acknowledged I wasn't a beauty like Christine, so why would he look at me in any way familiar to her if he could have her to begin with?

Erik's voice once again surrounded me, I felt almost drowned in it as he spoke, "Do you ever sing, Anna?" as he said my name I shivered again. I couldn't help but blush either; the way he said it was almost sinful in its self, it rolled so delicately off his tongue and yet contained a bite under the softness of the pronunciation. I wondered if many girls had fallen for that voice..

"No, I've never really had the opportunity to try. I'm far too nervous to attempt it, I would not wish to look foolish." I couldn't stop myself from smiling, although I wasn't usually one to be so pessimistic, I couldn't help myself being nervous at the idea of singing. In an Opera House you are surrounded by beautiful voices.

"Beauty can be hidden, even in the most surprising places there can be beauty, and with Music that beauty and be expressed." He whispered softly, as if reflecting on something personal. His voice sounded particularly sad as he spoke, the sadness was almost heart wrenching to hear.

"Erik, was it you who played the song when I was on the stage?" He reminded to so much of the tune which continues even now to haunt my dreams, so hidden and secretive and yet filled with a deep emotion; Sadness.

"Yes." He spoke matter of factually, almost not inviting any further discussion.

"It was so beautiful." I sighed, the memory of the song was blissful, To believe it came from a man was almost shocking. I could suddenly see how Christine referred to him as her Angel. "But it was sad." I couldn't help but wonder what made Erik feel this way; I could relate to feeling lonely, perhaps that was it, the man forever hidden in the shadows; Alone.

"Yes, Music gives me the chance to express myself." He sounded so somber. I placed my hand against the bookcase, wondering if he could see it. "Don't you ever wish to be seen, to be not so alone?" I couldn't help but ask, for my own loneliness without Erik was unbearable, even it is now as I cannot see him.

"Yes. But the world is blind." He sounded so heartbroken as he spoke I longed to see him at that very moment, as I stood I pressed my hands harder against the frame of the bookcase, begging for it to just release. I pressed my ear closely against one of the wooden panels. "How can I see?" It was at this moment I realised I longed to touch him. But I was greeted with a cold silence.

"Monsieur, please.." My hands searched for some kind of release on the panel but there was nothing. I thought him gone until he gently spoke to me; "You are not ready, you are too involved in the life of day that you couldn't possibly handle the darkness." He spoke softly,as you would to a child to avoid their disappointment.

With those words he left, leaving me in the flickering light of the Library. Alone.

The visit by the New Managers was something of a hectic scuffle.

First was the visit by the Viscount De Chagny, all the dancers were practically swooning at the sight of the man. I felt almost as if I was missing something as he smiled and woo'd the girls; Carlotta included. He had rather boyish features, his accent refined made me think of him as pompous. I could barely see why the girls were so worked up. I was surprised to see Christine following him so avidly. As he smiled once again and sent the dancers swooning, The fabled new Managers had made their entrance.

Monsieur Firmin and Monsieur Andre looked around like excited children as Carlotta paraded around the stage trying to woo them. It didn't work, as they constantly looked towards the dancing beauties that were Meg Giry and Christine Daae. She throwed another fit, the other cast just rolled their eyes as the two ran after her to grovel, which was normal practice.

Their begging was pitiful to watch. "Beautiful, Bella! Our star, brilliant diva!" Their compliments strained and half meant, but this appeased the woman and she fanned herself childishly and began to approach the stage. "Si." She preened herself, her eyes lighting up at the sign of compliment. She looked so contented and smug as she stood, preparing herself for a performance. She even cast a glance to the dancers, her eyes alight with self confidence as she gave them warning not to steal her precious something. Her limelight.

Carlotta's voice was deep and filled with trills, she prided herself in showing off with often prolonged and pointless notes; Trying to look even more gifted than the talent she truly possessed. As she sang her over exaggerated acting somewhat ruined the illusion.

She paraded around the stage, her hands gesturing to make up for her lack of expression. As she began to prolong another word with her pointless trills, a loud crash disrupted her ever captured audience to look above; straight at the falling display which headed exactly for Carlotta.

Of course, Carlotta was far too absorbed in herself to notice the danger, and when she did it was far too late. She was crushed by it.

"GET EET OFF OF ME!" Her Italian accent was on over drive as she completely lost her temper, slapping her hands against the stage like a child would on a tantrum as the maids and even the Managers tried to get her up off the floor. She even screamed, accusingly pointing her finger around to find the culprit But there was none.

The mention of a Phantom pricked my ears,_ Erik._

The managers tried in vain to appease her as she went off on a colossal fit, I believe I have never seen her so mad. She didn't listen, even rebuking them as they tried to put it down to an accident. This seemed to be the last straw for the legendary diva - She took her dogs and actually left.

Carlotta was actually gone.

Everyone stood in silence. The arrival of a note which Madame Giry picked from the ground began to put things in motion, The hushed but aggressive whispers of the new Managers seemed to bring the dancers to a halt, craning their necks to hear what the fuss was about.

"We will have to Cancel, what else are we to do? We have lost our STAR!" Monsieur Firmin ripped the note to pieces throwing it to the floor in an act of minute aggression.

"Christine Daae could sing for you, Monsieur." Madame Giry stepped forward, smiling. She rarely smiled and yet there she was; grinning so openly.

"A chorus girl? don't be so foolish" Monsieur Andre seemed almost insulted at the notion of a chorus girl in such a role, and yet they had no options. "She has been taught by an excellent tutor." Madame Giry smiled once again; Her eyes though, were looking around her. She was so direct with her gaze I couldn't help but wonder if she knew of Erik, but her words seemed to just make it ever more likely.

"Who is this tutor?" Monsieur Andre acted as if he knew of the greatest tutors, but it was very unlikely. Christine's small voice interrupted "I do not know his name." She sounded saddened by this. I suppose, it would be a sad thing to admit that by knowing his name, I felt slightly less envious of her. It was very early for me to say it.

"Fine." Monsieur Andre waved his hand dismissively, looking somewhat defeated. They had no choice, unless they wished to refund a full house.

Christine looked so weak as she stepped forward. She took her place in the center stage, glancing around shyly. I believed she would've fainted, until I heard the voice which finally broke out from her trembling lips.

I was not the only one completely gobsmacked by this; Her previous singing voice was so lacklustre, nervous. Yet what stood before us was a brilliant confident performer.

Before we knew it she was dressed for the main part, her role as Diva was sealed. I could only watch with envy as she transformed before me from a shy dancer to this radiant, beautiful diva.

Madame Giry looked on with a look of pride; Meg hide her own sadness as Madame Giry looked so filled with joy at the sight of Christine. The other dancers stood back in admiration as they watched their fellow dancer in such a prestigious part. On stage - Fulfilling many of their dreams.

I felt my stomach twist with envy at the sight of her, she was truely beautiful. My hand found my own face in comparison. I felt my stomach twist again. Her voice grew higher until I thought she would choke on the notes, But as she hit the final beautiful finish I felt truly worthless in comparison. The crowd went crazy, the Maestro and Managers clapping and cheering with pride. Even all of the stage help and dancers were celebrating; one of their own had made it.

The after parties were quite something to behold, the dancers and stage help drinking openly and the more refined members of the audience and production charming in conversation.

Christine had all but disappeared. Meg was frantically searching for her.

I knew where she would be; With him.

Once again my stomach twisted with envy. As I walked down the halls I saw the room in which Christine would stay in; The room with the mirror. I didn't know the significance, I thought it a coincidence.

I went back to my quarters, I knew the next few days would be hard; Christine would be praised for the next few performances. By the crowds, the managers and Him.

As I awoke the next morning, I found myself surrounded by gossiping girls.

There was rumor Christine had left. She had disappeared.

Rumors were spreading like wildfire, that she had been seduced by a wealthy benefactor and ran away. All of these rumors grew worse by the second, until one struck me like a hot flame. "The Phantom has taken her." Josef Buquet laughed, grabbing one of the girls in a mock display of kidnapped. "The man in the shadows, lurking..watching always." The girl squealed but made no attempt to move as he openly groped her. "His face, if you can call it that, so distorted, never properly formed." He covered one side of his face with his hand, keeping one arm around her. "His eyes sunken like death, a deep hole where his nose never grew. His skin like melted wax." The girls squealed and gasped in fear. "He prays on the girls; Young dancers especially." He brought his drunken lips down onto the dancers, she resisted slightly but went along with it rather openly. "He took her, I tell you, heard her pretty little voice and snatched her away, with his magical lasso" He suddenly pulled a hangman's noose from behind his back, using it to trap the girl in a playful manner, causing the girl to erupt into little giggles. I felt myself blush just watching.

Madame Giry slammed her cane down, alerting all the dancers of her presence. "Those who speak of what they know, often end up silent." She approached, glaring with such hate towards Josef. She snatched her girl from his arms and pulled her away, the look which she was given scared even me as I stood from a distance. "Do not make such horrible stories." She removed the rope from his hands, bringing it around his neck in such a quick movement, I hardly noticed until she pushed it up and practically strangled him with it. The other dancers gasped at such a display, as angry as she was; She never acted in such a manner before. "Keep your hands at the level of your eyes Josef." She threw the rope down and dismissed him, he left with no objection. I could see how wise this was.

The practice was long and drawn, the constant gossiping if this mysterious man had indeed ruined her, if the Phantom had seduced her and stole her for himself. I felt myself growing jealous.

It grew almost to a boiling point as time passed; She had been gone for two days. The managers had a panic and it was all over the paris newspapers. It was a big story. I believe perhaps with her gone and no sign of Erik what they said was true.

Of course, everyone did. Even Meg believed she may never see her again.

After two days, she did come back. The Viscount himself was almost attatched to the Opera House, more specifically her dressing room as news of her arrival was made clear. "She will be seeing no one. She needs rest." Madame Giry snapped and closed the doors, even going as far as locking them behind her. Since this, Carlotta made a sudden return.

Nobody was allowed to see her after those two days, and the rumors just grew. They were saying an evil creature forced his way on her, that the phantom had quite literally made her do his will. She was apparently now bed ridden with trauma. Carlotta took advantage and got her attention from the Managers and many gifts; Order was restored it seemed.

Once again Josef was in the dressing room, scaring the girls some more with an updated tale. "He's coming for a new girl, you'll have to be on your guard ladies." The ladies giggles and laughter made me feel sick.

I left to the sleeping quarters. I was unable to sleep at first, the idea of them both together..I felt myself twist with a new found jealousy.

I longed to see him; and she did.

My dreams too were haunted by images of this mysterious man. Each one seemed to grow worse by the night.

Once again Carlotta was the Diva, she was about to take on her role as Countess, Usually I would have stayed awake to see the performance, but I couldn't. I didn't think I could stomach Carlotta as the Countess again, and so I went to bed early and found myself plagued by an overwhelming dream.

_I found myself surrounded by water again, but I was on a bed, a haunting song surrounded me. Then I heard it; his voice.._

_It surrounded me completely, he was saying my name, calling for me. His voice moving around, from my side to in front of me, I didn't know where it was coming from, for all that there was, was a bed. Surrounded by water like from the path. That was when his hands found mine, but I couldn't look, only feel. "Anna" he whispered so softly I barely felt the feeling of breath against my neck. It was subtle but there. His hands were now roaming around my body, up my arms so softly. His caress with those hands, although I couldn't see- It intoxicated me. I longed for more, to be able to see, to feel more. His hands reached my shoulders and repeated the gentle whisper "Anna." His hands were so soft against my bare neck, I would've sworn his touch was of silk. "Anna.." His hands began to dip lower from my neck, lower to a more intimate place, his hands so gentle lingered for a second on my breasts, I felt myself gasping as his voice and breathing grew heavier and more urgent. "Anna" it pleaded almost, calling for me, begging. "Erik..Erik please" I heard my own voice but it wasn't me, it was passionate, wanting. Longing. His hands began to dip lower, following a sudden fire which ignited deep in my anatomy. I blushed as it burned feverishly, as his hands dipped to the source, so close to sating the burning...It went black. I woke up._

Oh god. It felt so real. My hand clasped against my chest, I was breathing heavily, I was sure I awoke with a scream. As I looked around, nobody stirred, in fact, nobody was in the room. It was rather odd.

I had to find him, My mind was racing. As I left the quarters, I silently made my way to the library, this area of the Opera House was strangely silent. I knew there had to be a way through the library, the silence gave me hope I could get in and out without being noticed.

As I walked in a I felt a sudden chill. I was only in a cotton nightdress, it was thin and barely left anything to the imagination, but it kept modesty. As a dancer I was only given basics, this was as basic as it could get. Now I was in the library I became aware of it.

I approached the bookcase, tapping the wooden panels for a release, but there was nothing. My patience began running out, I had to see him.

I began to tug on the books, each falling down to the floor. Three books later I hit one. The bookcases suddenly parted and led me to set of stairs. I couldn't fight back a gasp.

I began to make my way down the stairs; there was quite a few, my feet were bare and I swore I would have fell. As the bookcases closed I was in darkness. I tried my best to go down the stairs. I was relieved as I found the end, although it was dark the flickering of a distant light gave me direction. It was a long passage until I was met once again with water. It wasn't too deep, I took a breath and began to enter the water. It was up to my thighs.

The light grew more pronounced as I walked down in the water, at one point it grew rather deep, leaving me up to my shoulders in water. I felt sick, the water was so misty. As I continued down the path I saw it, the light. There was a small living space down here, light up with candles. The water began to go lower, although it was still rather deep it was nowhere near as bad as the passage.

My Nightgown clung rather tightly to my skin, but it wasn't cold that made me shiver.

He lived here.

There were steps, which I followed and found many things, beautiful drawings of the opera house and quite a few of Christine. It made me rather sad to see her sketched so beautifully by Erik's hands. I would've taken it worse if I had not seen two drawings of myself.

One of me dancing on the stage, the other of me sitting in the library, my hand against the bookcase._ He saw me._

I wouldn't consider myself beautiful, but with his hand I had some beauty, In his drawings I was beautiful. I felt myself sigh. I felt rather nosy as I continued to walk along, he had so many things, Drawings, paintings, Candles burning beautifully. Roses were everywhere, he grew them down here.

That was when I saw a mask. I held it in my hands, I couldn't help but wonder if he had worn it. My hand touched the fine porcelain and I felt some how connected to him. Everything about this place made me feel connected to the man behind the voice. There was silence; He wasn't here. I couldn't help but wonder when he'd be back. Would I wait? should I leave?

I was considering leaving, until I saw an organ in the center. Surrounded by sheets of music. As I walked towards it, I saw his bed. A swan. I couldn't help but gasping at it. He slept there..

I was about to approach it until words of one of the sheets of music caught my eye. "Don Juan" His writing was beautiful, each musical note perfectly written. It looked beautiful. His writing was filled with passion, every stroke showing his concentration and dedication.

I began to approach the Organ. As I picked up the sheet music, I noticed. It was for a duet. Humming the tune I could hardly contain myself, it was beautiful..but it was heated with passion. I almost blushed at the lyrics. I could imagine a man and a woman, entwined together as they sung, fighting their passions. It read longing and lust.

It was so silent here, He wasn't here. I wondered if he would come back soon, what would he do if he saw me? What would he look like?

I touched the sheet music gently, it was a part of him. I could see how much he had put into it, how his longing was put into song form. I couldn't help but think it was for her..Christine

Yet, I couldn't resist. In the silence of the dim light hidden crevice, I found my voice.

I began to sing, at first I was shy but the words seemed to move me in a way I never felt before. Entranced, I began to gain courage, even more surprising as I hit each note, I imagine him singing with me and something light up inside me. A passion that lay dormant I longed for him as he longed for Christine. I understood the lyrics, the longing, the aching want.

I closed my eyes, but a sharp voice behind me broke me from my enchantment. "What are you doing?!" He was back. His voice booming from behind me to the point where I nearly dropped the sheet music. He sounded so angry and torn.

As I turned, I was greeted with the towering figure of Erik, his eyes showed signs of tears, but all that stood before me was a mass of rage. His hands, gloved in a black leather, found my arms and roughly yanked me, shaking me with rage. I felt myself want to shrink. "Erik..Erik I..I.."

"Come to laugh at the monster? To torment me with your flesh?!" He looked down at my clinging nightgown, as he spoke, staring for a few seconds and releasing a shaking breath before he threw me to one side, making me fall down quite defenseless. "Why did she do this to me? Why did she torture me?!" He shouted at me with such a fierce rage. I found myself shying away from him. He was intimidating a tall, strong man. His figure was looming. His face, covered with a mask. His eyes were dark and emotionless. They bore into my own accusingly. "You too? You come to taunt me?" His anger seemed to intensify, he even knocked down many candles in a show of aggression. Candles and paper flew all over. "I..Erik, no."

His eyes were red, he had been crying. He stood before me, angry. He was shaking. He was upset.

"She betrayed me. She...Betrayed me." His voice turned to a whisper before he fell before me, sitting in a doubled over huddle. "The Viscount pretty boy stole her from me." He was speaking of Christine. "All that I done for her, I gave her my music." His hands found either side of his face, his shoulders trembling with anger and heartbreak. He faced away from me, his back being the only thing I could see.

I slowly crept towards him in timid movements. I felt my own tears fall as I approached. His sobs were that of true heartbreak. I longed to soothe him. My hands slowly found his shoulders, he shivered at the contact - One hand even caught my wrist in warning, but I slowly began to take my hand away from his. "It's okay." I tried to calm him with a whisper, he slowly released my wrist and I once again began to rub his shoulders. "Everything will be alright.."

His tears came more freely. I knew his mask must be causing him some discomfort. As I touched his face he flinched and began to retreat. "It's okay, trust me." He didn't budge, . "I'll cover my eyes, you must be uncomfortable in the mask?" I tried to appease him by closing my eyes. My hand then once again found his face. I couldn't tell if he was looking at me, but he seemed somewhat more relaxed. "I promise, I won't open my eyes unless you say other wise Monsieur." I spoke as softly as I could mange, he seemed tense but allowed me to carefully lift off the mask. My hands then took their place on his face, his skin was smooth at first, wet with tears. As my hands moved up, I felt some scarring. In fact, I felt quite a bit of scarring, I couldn't hide my gasp. His hand came on top of mine and clasped against it. "Some things you do not want to see." He spoke softly, but I heard the pain in his voice. "Some things, people cannot handle. This face, a curse - It earned my mother's fear." He shook a little more with tears. "Perhaps even poisoned my love with Christine."

I gathered the courage to sing to him, I thought perhaps it may ease him. I began to sing in a weak voice, I blushed a little at it but it grew stronger and more confident as it went on;

_"Try not to get worried, try not to turn on to _  
_Problems that upset you, oh. _  
_Don't you know _  
_Everything's alright, yes, everything's fine. _  
_And we want you to sleep well tonight. _  
_Let the world turn without you tonight. _  
_If we try, we'll get by, so forget all about this, tonight"_

I couldn't imagine the pain he had gone through with such a disfigurement, the severity I felt on my hands was terrible. The scarring was deep and uneven. His sobs slowly began to end, until all that remained was silence between us. I didn't know how to react; Did my singing make him angry? He stood from my arms rather abruptly. It was only then I became aware of a prickling heat between us.

"Open your eyes." He spoke almost on command. As I opened his mask was back on and he looked as he did before; Although his eyes had changed. His eyes scanned my attire; which was made up of a damp, thin nightgown.

He held out his hand, which I took. He helped me to my feet and his eyes found mine. He stared down at me for a long time until he saw the song I was holding before he came. Don Juan. "Why have you come here." He sounded almost confused at my presence. He was unaware of how I felt.

"I longed to see you." I muttered but he seemed almost amused at my reply. "I couldn't help myself."

"Why are you here." He asked again, rather harshly. I didn't know how to answer in further detail and the idea of it made my cheeks flush red. "I wanted to see you, Erik." He looked down at me again, more closely scanning my vulnerable state and revealing clothing. The contact his eyes made with my body made me blush again, even tremble.

"You're cold." He stated like a fact, he held out his hand again and led me to the beautiful swan bed. As we walked I saw a life like mannequin of Christine, I even did a double take to see if it was in fact her, standing in a wedding dress. "You still stay here." He set me down onto the bed and went to the extra length of covering me with the blanket. I watched as he stood beside me, watching me intently. He took the place beside me, gently pushing my hair from my face as he lay near me. The contact of the leather on my skin made me tremble again. He began to sing me to sleep, his voice so soft and gentle I was easily lulled to bed. His hand pushed all the hair from my face and gently occasionally stroked my cheek. _"Night time sharpens, Heightens each sensation, darkness stirs, and wakes imagination..Silently the senses, abandon their defenses.."_ The song was beautiful, I unknowingly curled against him as I lay there. He sung to me like he would to a child; Soothing me as I did him. With his encouragement, my mind drifted off into the darkness as he sang for me to do.


End file.
